


ii.title page & text.

by The Sneak (AloryShannon)



Series: Welcome to the Akatsuki Public Library, how may we help you to die--I mean, today? [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-10
Updated: 2008-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AloryShannon/pseuds/The%20Sneak





	ii.title page & text.

It doesn’t take long for Deidara to get over his initial irritation with Sasori for the redhead’s behaviour during their first meeting. This is due primarily to three distinct factors: first, the erroneous assumption that he is female is not an uncommon one, and while it is also not particularly appreciated, it would be foolish to hold a grudge over something so commonplace; he’s grown somewhat used to it over the years, after all. Besides, he has a personal rule about letting things go three times before _really_ getting angry.

Second, after some careful observation, he realises that Sasori wasn’t actually trying to go out of his way to be rude--that’s just how he speaks to everyone, all sharp sarcasm and cool condescension regardless of who they are. In fact, if anything Sasori had been _nicer_ to him (but that could just be wishful thinking on his part).

But the third and final reason is the one that really matters. Honestly, Sasori is a fascinating individual, so very calm and efficient and withdrawn, all things that Deidara is not. But what makes him even more intriguing is that Deidara knows without a doubt that Sasori _understands._

He’s noticed the wistful expression Sasori gets while reading certain books, seen the look of intense concentration he has while carefully writing out line after well-thought-out line in the leather-bound notebook that is always at hand. Sasori understands, Deidara knows, better than any of their other, therefore much less interesting coworkers, because he is an artist too.

It’s because of this final factor that the blonde decides that he actually really _likes_ Sasori—and when Deidara likes someone, they receive a great deal of his attention, whether they want it or not.

He quickly learns what sorts of things irritate Sasori (though he soon realises that a list of things that didn’t would be much shorter), and then proceeds to do them all the more; it’s an easy way to capture and maintain the little redhead’s attention, as he knows full well that if he behaved with the desired level of professionalism, he’d just end up being ignored, and where would the fun be in that? Deidara likes getting reactions, the more explosive the better, and provoking the Head Reference Librarian never fails to provide an amusing response.

* * *

 

It had not been a particularly enjoyable day for Sasori thus far. In addition to the endless and annoying streams of patrons needlessly requesting permission to use the computers (there were signs posted that clearly stated that all they had to do was sit down at the things and enter their library card numbers, they didn’t have to come _tell_ him about it), he’d had to deal with a lost child, a coffee spill that made Noah’s Flood look like a simple mud puddle, two particularly stubborn patrons who insisted that they’d been told that they could vote at the library (never mind the fact that _it wasn’t an election year_ ), and a copier that had jammed twice. On a good day, or even a regular day, the Assistant Manager would have been around to deal with that last--she usually handled matters of that sort--but unfortunately, she was out for the day, and thus the task had fallen into Sasori's unwilling hands. Between mopping up Lake Triple Espresso and having his clean white shirt splattered with ink, he’d managed to shoo the unpleasantly clingy child in the general direction of Circulation, give an extremely watered-down explanation of the electoral process to the sadly mislead and terribly confused couple, and direct each and every one of the aforementioned constant stream of Internet-seeking patrons as to how the computers worked (pointing at one of the many signs scattered about usually did it).

It is with great relief that he accepts Kakuzu’s offer to cover the Reference Desk for an hour or two, instantly deciding to spend his free time doing something relaxing: shelving.

Shelving is the task that he is best suited for: simple and repetitive as it may be, there is a sort of satisfaction to be gained from putting things carefully in their proper places, a restfulness in being able to focus on _books_ rather than _people_ for a time, a simple joy in treasuring the tiny bubble of serenity secreted away in the musty, near-silent air of the stacks.

A bubble that is abruptly popped when he finds himself looking at blank, barren shelves where his preshelving should be.

Turning on his heel, he stalks down the aisles, just in time to witness a cheerfully-whistling Deidara wheeling an empty cart out of the 300s.

Sasori’s generally well-repressed emotions waver for a moment between horrified disbelief and intense anger, finally settling on the latter.

 _“What,”_ he says, a noticeable tremour in his voice, “in _heaven’s_ name do you think you are _doing?”_

“Shelving your books for you,” the blonde says with a wide-eyed, innocent blink of confusion. “You’ve been busy today, danna, so your section of the preshelving was getting pretty full, and I finished all my shelving, so I thought I’d give you a hand, yeah.”

Sasori’s gaze flits from Deidara’s face down the long row of books, and he’s familiar enough with the items on those shelves to be able to tell even from this distance that they _are_ in the correct order; however, it’s also painfully clear which areas have seen the blonde’s hand. Sasori’s sections look as though they could have been measured out with a ruler: each book is lined up precisely on the edge of the shelf, the books are sitting snugly against each other and are all fully upright, and the empty spaces at the end of each shelf are almost exactly the same. Deidara’s, in turn, are not nearly so tidy: books lean and list against one another, several jutting out into the aisle, many more pushed too far back on their shelves and in danger of falling out the back of the shelf or being lost behind other books, and the empty areas on the ends vary widely, from a few inches to a few feet.

Sasori’s hands clench and unclench at his sides, a suggestion of what their owner would most likely end up doing to Deidara’s throat if the blonde were ever so unlucky as to find himself within easy reach. “You… _you…”_

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t resist helping you.” Deidara beams down at the smaller man before leaning forward a bit, lowering his voice confidentially. “You know, I really kinda _liked_ shelving in your section, danna. I might have to do it more often, yeah.”

Sasori’s eyes bulge, then glaze over, then his entire body starts to tremble; the skin over the knuckles of his tightly clenched fists flare bone-white and stay that way.

Thankfully, Kisame happens by at just that moment; a single passing glance at the situation is all it takes for him to know there’s trouble, some sixth sense notifying him of the high potential for violence here. Moving far more quickly than most people would have thought possible, he catches hold of the tiny redhead, his huge hands nearly big enough to encircle Sasori’s entire ribcage.

“Deidara,” the blue-haired man says pointedly, gritting his teeth at the surprising amount of effort it’s taking him to maintain his hold on the obviously livid but still chillingly silent Head Reference Librarian. “I think Pein wanted to see you about something.”

“Yeah?” The blonde’s face breaks into a wide grin, and in that instant Kisame more than half suspects that he’s been baiting Sasori on purpose.

He gives his newest coworker a look of warning. “Yeah. He’ll be leaving soon, so you’d better go see what he wants.” There’s an unspoken _now_ tacked onto those words, though it’s more of a courteous _now, please_ rather than a threatening _now, or else._

Whether Deidara catches that or not is anyone’s guess, but either way, his grin widens a bit more, and with a chipper “See you later, danna!” he and the empty cart vanish down the nearest aisle.

Sasori calms a bit once the source of his displeasure has fully disappeared from view, but Kisame can still read a deep-seated anger in the tense lines of his body, so he waits a few moments longer before releasing his hold on his considerably smaller colleague.

“…He was only trying to help, you know,” he ventures after a moment of awkward deliberation, and despite the almost ridiculous difference in their size, Kisame can’t help but wince just slightly at the unchecked malice in the glare turned up at him by the other man.

Sasori just snarls wordlessly in reply, and sets to work repairing the 'damage' done to his section.

* * *

 

 

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